


First Things First (you got it going on)

by DreamsAreMyWords



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, CRC, Car Sex, Clexa, Coitus Interruptus, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Humor, No Angst, Prom, Smut, minor Ranya, no one cheats, zero angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 01:49:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15786474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamsAreMyWords/pseuds/DreamsAreMyWords
Summary: Clarke and Lexa haven't seen each other since summer camp years ago when they were kids, where Lexa served as the first girl Clarke ever kissed and her bisexual awakening, and Clarke served as a first for something else for Lexa.They meet again at senior prom. The problem? They both have dates, and they can't keep their eyes off each other. Maybe they'll just have to get to know each other again in the back of the limo...





	First Things First (you got it going on)

Hey guys! So as some of you know, I've been working on a new fic called Between Our Love (search the blog clexa-surrogacy-au on tumblr for more info if you don't!). It's been fun to write, but it's also super heavy, so I decided to take a breather and write this silly little one shot, inspired by this post [x](https://rivertalesien.tumblr.com/post/176249168011/back-of-a-limo-what-did-i-miss) 

Title is from the song Bikini Body. Watch this video if you're gay and thirsty. My crush on Lia Kim knows no bounds. [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dsP-v3Tpqto)

Also, my own proms were tragically heterosexual, so this was a bit of self healing, haha. Hope you enjoy!

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s awkward. Prom shouldn’t be this awkward, right?

 

Clarke shifts her weight on her wedges and fidgets with her clutch, resisting the urge to reach into her dress to adjust her boobs yet again. It’s not that they’re uncomfortable, just that this is the second time she’s caught Murphy glancing at them, and they’re probably hanging out. And, honestly, it’s just something to do with her hands. The group stands there awkwardly in a half-formed circle, basically just watching as Octavia takes several selfies with Lincoln.

 

Maybe it’s her date. Don't get her wrong, Finn is a sweet guy. Three weeks ago she’d opened her locker to a dozen painstakingly crafted origami roses that were so well done they almost appeared to be the real thing from a distance. She said yes because, well, her parents warned her she can’t skip out on yet another important milestone of social life and Finn is nice enough, so why not? But now she’s worried she's given him the wrong idea. He seems…much more enthusiastic about this than she does. Earlier this evening he was even happier than her parents were to take cheesy prom photos, and even now he keeps leaning down to her to whisper jokes in her ear she barely listens to. She feels, at best, lukewarm about him and this whole prom thing in general. In all truthfulness, Clarke would much rather be in her comfy clothes relaxing at home, painting her new canvas and absently listening to Netflix as it plays in the background. She tried to convince her parents she needed to study, but they didn’t buy it— after all, she’d already been accepted to Polis University, and she was a straight A student.

 

Maybe it’s the group as a whole. It’s…not exactly people Clarke would choose to spend the evening with. Octavia, yes, she’s one of her best friends, and Lincoln is part of that package deal, even though he’s two grades ahead of them and only comes home from college to visit every other weekend. The same goes for Bellamy, who Octavia was less than pleased to learn would be attending her senior prom, but he’s been dating Echo since he graduated last year. That’s pretty much it, though. Murphy is here because he (inexplicably) managed to land himself a girlfriend, and Emori is friends with Echo and Murphy and Bellamy have always had a weird friendship anyway. It’s a little weird because Clarke doesn’t personally know any of her friends’ dates except for Lincoln; they’re all from Tondc Academy across town, and save for Lincoln, this is their first and only time attending Arkadia High’s prom. It’s a bit less awkward when Monty and Harper arrive, but Clarke finds herself looking forward to Jasper and Maya’s arrival. If anyone can dispel awkward silence, it’s Jasper and his goofy sense of humor.

 

They should be arriving any time. They all agreed to go to prom together this year because Emori’s brother runs a limo service and offered to chauffeur them. Mostly, it was because Monty insisted limos are multi-purposed luxury vehicles and they could eat pizza in the back on their way home. They agreed weeks ago that they’d meet here, but two couples, including Jasper and Maya, are late. The remaining two people yet to arrive are Costia Smith—a girl Clarke’s had in a few of her classes this year but still doesn’t know much about except that she’s quiet and polite—and her date, Lexa Woods. Someone Clarke hasn’t actually spoken to since middle school, and their last real interaction hadn’t actually involved much talking.

 

That was almost six years ago, though. Now, Clarke knows little about her aside from the fact that she’s Lincoln’s cousin and also apparently a formidable opponent on the soccer pitch; Octavia has hated her ever since losing the playoff game to their team last year. She wasn’t thrilled when Lincoln mentioned she would be attending their prom as Costia’s date. Jasper’s been collecting bets on whether or not there’ll be a fight by the end of the night.

 

Well, at least that would make this night a little more entertaining. Not that Clarke particularly _wants_ to watch Octavia kill someone with her bare hands, but it has to be better than watching the hundred different variations of the duck face she and Lincoln are currently putting them through.

 

The stragglers arrive at the same time, and Clarke’s busy enough greeting Jasper and hugging Maya that she doesn’t notice her at first. She sees Costia out of the corner of her eyes, pretty, wearing a pale pink dress and a tacky flower tiara in her hair, but she doesn’t catch the stranger quite yet.

 

“Hey guys,” speaks up Lincoln, gesturing toward the newcomers. “There’s too many of you so I’ll make this a quick intro. This is my cousin Lexa. Lex, this is…everyone.”

 

Clarke finally turns and…oh. _Oh._ It’s definitely different, this is not like seeing her from a distance, watching from the bleachers as her minuscule figure sprints across a soccer field. Clarke’s breath hitches as her eyes fall on the tall, lean brunette trailing behind Costia with the lack of enthusiasm Clarke has felt since the moment she put on her dress. Seeing her feels like a punch to the gut. Clarke licks her lips, swaying where she stands in response to the powerful sensation overtaking her, a low pull stirring in her stomach as she casts her gaze over the first girl she ever kissed.

 

The first thing Clarke notices is Lexa is extra as _fuck_ . She’s wearing _glitter._ Like _actual_ body glitter. Glitter, and a slinky dress with a slit that exposes a long, long… _long_ leg, tan and lean and… Clarke swallows, suddenly parched. Dark hair tumbles over one shoulder in rich curls, perfect pouty lips are slicked with deep red, and green eyes sparkle surrounded by smoky liner. Clarke has barely interacted with anyone tonight, let alone looked away from her phone, but now she can’t stop looking at this girl. Which is not okay. One, because Clarke’s arm is hooked around her date, Finn, who she’s barely even looked at tonight, and two, because Lexa is clutching the hand of her date, Costia, who also happens to be her _girlfriend._

 

Lexa’s head tilts as she seems to sense someone’s gaze on her, and Clarke’s not quick enough to look away. Heat flushes her cheeks as she stares determinedly at Lincoln and Octavia, who have now pulled Monty and Harper into the selfie, but she can feel Lexa’s eyes on her. When she chances a glance back, she’s just in time to see green eyes flit away from her chest. Clarke warms all over. Maybe she shouldn’t readjust them, then.

 

After Octavia whips out the selfie stick and they crowd in for the picture. Clarke flushes again as Lexa’s arm presses against hers, flinching a little at the feel of Finn’s hand resting on her waist in contrast. Afterwards they pile into the limo and head out. Clarke does her best to ignore Lexa, who has one long leg draped over the other, looking bored as she tunes out of Costia and Maya’s conversation. Clarke can’t help tuning out herself; she did somewhere five minutes into Finn and Bellamy’s discussion of vintage cars.

 

She can’t stop looking at Lexa out of the corner of her eye. This is bad, realizes Clarke as she shifts in her seat, overheated and flustered. Finn absently puts a hand on her knee and green eyes linger on the movement. Clarke’s own eyes catch on the thumb idly stroking across what looks like long, slender fingers. She snaps her gaze away. No. _No._ She has a date, what is she doing? Granted, Finn wasn’t exactly her first choice. They’d only been on a handful of dates since he broke up with his long-term girlfriend Raven, who graduated last year. He was funny, and charming, and…admittedly a little boring. And not nearly as fun to look at as Lexa. Clarke’s gaze is drawn to the glitter sparkling on her skin much the same way she imagines a bird is called to something particularly shiny. This is ridiculous.

 

What’s more ridiculous is the fact that Lexa seems to be looking right back at her while hand in hand with her girlfriend, even if Clarke can’t help but notice they haven’t exchanged a single word since climbing into the car.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You know, you could at least _try_ not to look like you’d rather be literally anywhere other than here.”

 

The nervous energy buzzing in the park hums just beneath the surface of Clarke’s skin. She blinks herself out of her reverie and turns to face Monty, who looks back at her with amusement twinkling in his eyes.

 

“Sorry,” she sighs, reaching up to run a hand through her hair before remembering it’s currently arranged in some fancy do apparently called a fishtail chignon that her mother forced her to waste five minutes of her life having done.

 

“What’s up with you anyway?” asks Monty, a crease appearing between his brows as he glances toward Finn, who stands a few feet away looking happy as a peach, hands in his suit pockets as he chats with Harper. “Don’t tell me you have prom date regret?”

 

“No,” says Clarke finally, guilt softening her smile as she exchanges one with Finn. “He’s been nice.”

 

“If you wanted nice, why didn’t you come with Wells?”

 

“Lucky for him, _his_ parents don’t force him to experience high school milestones, so he stayed home. He hates this kind of stuff anyway.” Still, she can’t help but to think she’d be having more fun if Wells were here. They’d be standing together making fun of the whole concept of prom, at least.

 

Monty hums in agreement.

 

“Who hates what?” asks Finn as he joins them.

 

“Wells,” says Clarke before Monty can. “He’s not coming to prom, he hates dances and…social gatherings.”

 

“Oh. Well, he wants to get in that Ivy League school, right?” Finn smiles when Clarke nods. “Hopefully he’ll get a good night of studying in.” Finn tilts his head as he notices the empty cup in Clarke’s hand. “Want a refill?”

 

“Please.”

 

The next hour of prom is a blur of tacky decorations and cliché quotes plastered on the walls. There’s a few brief reprieves; watching Jasper’s ridiculous dancing, watching Emori snap at Murphy when he steps on her toes, watching Monty and Harper get crowned as king and queen and their cute dance afterwards. Clarke can't resist her frequent glances at Lexa; she's rarely dancing and usually sitting at the same table nursing a cup of punch. Clarke wants to go talk to her, perhaps catch up, but she tells herself the reason she doesn’t is because Costia’s sitting right next to her and it’d be awkward. _Hey, yes, I actually do know your girlfriend, she was actually the instigator of my bisexual awakening and the first girl I’ve ever kissed. Lexa, how you doing?_

 

So, she doesn’t. She dances with Finn and her friends, she texts Wells to update him on the gossip and drama (she only catches Charlotte crying in the bathroom once, and Trina and Sterling were the first to be threatened by the teachers for their inappropriate dancing), she ignores the itch to speak to Lexa and the awareness in the back of her mind that it’s more the warmth stirring in her belly at the sight of her that’s spurring her on to and not so much the inclination to catch up. The nights drags on. The only thing going for Clarke is the punch she can’t stop downing, especially after Monty and Jasper spike it with their moonshine. Clarke has just returned for her third or fourth glass when it happens.

 

Her hope for a short, uneventful prom is effectively imploded when a gorgeous older girl shows up in a red dress holding a boutonniere like it’s the most precious thing in the world. Finn’s cup of punch falls to the ground with a messy splash, and the boutonniere falls to the ground to be soaked in the puddle of red when Raven realizes what’s happened. Clarke is too busy feeling horribly guilty that Raven came all this way to surprise her boyfriend only to discover he’s been cheating on her to feel furious that Finn lied to her too. Raven’s shouting is so loud it can be heard over the pounding music, and Finn ends up leaving after his begging of both Clarke and Raven to understand results in Clarke walking away while the remainder of the punch bowl is dumped on his head. Even a year after her graduation, the antics of Raven Reyes are still the talk of the school.

 

In the commotion that follows, Clarke needs some air. Tonight was a mistake. She knew she should have just stayed home. Desperate for some space, she flees out the front doors and casts her gaze around for somewhere to hide before the teachers can order her back inside. She perks up when she spots the limo still parked in the drive outside the school building.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lexa knew prom would be a waste of time.

 

She’s spent most of the evening wishing she were at home having a nice nap. She blames her loyalty as the only reason why she couldn’t turn Costia down. They broke up two weeks ago but it was such short notice, of course Lexa wasn’t going to say no when she asked if they could still go to prom together. Even though she _knew_ it wasn’t a good idea.

 

And now here they are, and Costia won’t stop nagging at her for every little thing. She was already pissed with her for wearing the wrong dress color, but truthfully Lexa had sold her dress last week so she had to borrow one from Anya.  The one good thing about this night is getting to see Clarke again.

 

Clarke Griffin. It’s not the first time Lexa’s seen her since middle school, but it’s the first time she’s seen her so up close in person. She’s creeped on her Facebook a few times, but has never been able to gather up the courage to send her a friend request. For one, Clarke’s is good friends with Octavia, and it’s common knowledge Octavia isn’t Lexa’s biggest fan. That isn’t a secret; the girl always does her best to show it during their soccer games twice a year, three times if they play each other in playoffs. After Arkadia’s final loss to Tondc this year, Lexa’s sure those feelings of animosity aren’t diminished. Two...it would be weird. Wouldn’t it be weird? They met during summer camp at Floukru Falls and kissed during a game of spin the bottle. They grew close at camp, but they were only thirteen— Lexa didn’t own a phone and social media wasn’t exactly a thing then. Lexa didn’t see her again until she was sixteen and caught a glimpse of her rushing onto the field after a game to console Octavia.

 

Lexa hasn’t been able to take her eyes off her since the moment she saw her. But it’s been hours since she disappeared into the dancing crowd with her date, and now Lexa’s thinking she probably won’t ever see her again because she’s about two seconds away from saying fuck it and leaving.

 

Body still prickling with indignation from her latest fight with Costia, Lexa chucks her crumpled cup of spiked punch into the trash and heads out the doors for some space. She’s caught by some teacher—Mr. Pike, she thinks is his name—and forced back inside only minutes later. He’s distracted soon after, attention drawn by some commotion taking place in the center of the dance floor that sounds distinctly like a lover’s spat—and possibly like someone threw something, judging by the deafening crash—and hurries off. She takes advantage by escaping again, eying the stretch limousine they arrived in still parked in the drive, and spares a mental fist-pump when it turns out to be unlocked.

 

A heavy sigh tumbling out of her lips, Lexa slips into the limo and shuts the door behind her, anxiety easing as she slouches into the stretch of plush leather in the back seat. She eyes the fake champagne glass embedded in the bucket and wishes, not for the first time tonight, that she could have something stronger to drink other than a few cups of spiked punch. Oh well. She tips her head back against the cushion and closes her eyes. At least the sounds of the dance are muffled through the dark tinted windows, and she’s finally alone. She might just have that nap now.

 

Apparently the universe has other plans.

 

She startles when the door opens abruptly, and before she can do much more than look over, Clarke Griffin is climbing into the car.

 

“Oh—hey,” she says, startled. She blinks. “I…uh, sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was in here.” She blushes a pretty pink and makes to withdraw. “Sorry, I’ll go—“

 

“No, stay,” blurts Lexa before she can really think it through.

 

Clarke pauses, one brow arching. “Are you sure?”

 

Lexa nods.

 

She climbs in, shutting the door behind her and muffling the distant music. She slumps down in the seat across from Lexa and studies her curiously. Lexa tries not to squirm under the weight of the bluest eyes she’s ever seen.

 

“I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Clarke,” she offers after a moment of silence.

 

“I remember you. I’m Lexa.” Lexa reaches over to take the hand Clarke offers and shakes it, hoping her palms aren’t too sweaty. Her heart jumps into her throat when Clarke doesn’t release her, instead turning her hand over to cast an appreciative gaze up the length of Lexa’s arm.

 

“I remember you too. And I like the glitter. Pretty.”

 

There’s a glint in her eye that has warmth pooling low in Lexa’s stomach. She leans back in her seat when Clarke releases her hand, already missing the contact.

 

“Thank you. I like your…” She curses herself for the way her eyes automatically drift toward the area that’s been drawing her gaze all night, ample cleavage cradled in a silver dress. She swallows. “…dress.”

 

Clarke’s lips twitch. “Thanks.” They hold eye contact and it’s almost too much, the air in this limo thick and suffocating. Clarke is finally the one to break it, glancing out the darkened window. “So, why are you hiding in here?”

 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

 

“My date is an asshole,” she says loftily, as though barely bothered by it. She shrugs at Lexa’s questioning look. “We haven’t been a thing for long. More annoyed that I wasted my time getting ready and coming here when I didn’t want to in the first place. Why are you here? Where’s your girlfriend?”

 

Lexa shrugs too, echoing Clarke’s indifference. “She isn’t my girlfriend. We broke a couple weeks ago. I came because I promised her I would,” she adds at the slight furrowing of Clarke’s brow. “And we already had plans. I’d hoped we could come as friends, but.” She shrugs again.

 

“Sorry,” says Clarke.

 

Lexa waves it away. “I’m more sorry for you, this is actually your prom. I mean, I already went to the Tondc prom, this is more Costia’s prom.”

 

“See, I actually feel more sorry for you. Two proms, gross.”

 

Lexa’s lips curl up. “Not a fan?”

 

“Nope,” she pops the p, “I’d rather be home watching Netflix.”

 

“Why aren’t you?”

 

“My parents insisted. Originally I was supposed to come here with one of my best friends, but he hates social events too and he managed to convince his parents to let him skip it. Mine wouldn’t go for that. They went the whole nine yards, made me take pictures and everything.”

 

Lexa purses her lips to curb her smile, imagining Clarke’s utter lack of enthusiasm as she was forced to pose for various corny pictures.

 

“So, how have you been?” asks Clarke, flushing once the words leave her mouth.

 

Lexa looks at her in amusement. “Since camp six years ago?”

 

Clarke owns it and nods.

 

“Great. How have you been?”

 

“Peachy.”

 

The warmth still simmering inside her makes Lexa want to talk about the events of camp, but she doesn’t know how to bring it up without being obvious. Clarke, however, seems to lack any similar qualms.

 

“Six years and I’m presuming many more boob grabs in the meantime."

 

Lexa laughs in surprise, even as her blush deepens. Clarke’s smile is sharp and wicked, blue eyes twinkling.

 

“None quite as special as yours,” Lexa assures her, heart kicking at bit at Clarke’s laugh.

 

“Bet you tell all the girls that.”

 

“Maybe. But our moment really was special. You were my first.”

 

Clarke tilts her head, appraising her. “I kinda figured. Considering we were thirteen and you looked like a human tomato as you fumbled around.” She pauses. “You were the first girl I’ve ever kissed, you know.”

 

“I kinda figured,” Lexa echoes, her lips twitching as Clarke’s do. “Considering we were thirteen and you looked like a human tomato as you fumbled around.”

 

“Hey!” exclaims Clarke, laughing. “There’s been quite a few girls I’ve kissed since you and I’ve never had any complaints, thank you very much.”

 

“I’ve never had any complaints either. I'm a perfect gentlewoman, if you haven't noticed."

 

“Mmm. You keep looking at my chest. I’ve noticed that.”

 

Another blush creeps up Lexa’s neck, the tips of her ears glowing with it. Clarke doesn’t look offended; she’s smiling in satisfaction, something more than smug in her eyes, but Lexa still leans forward in shame. “I’m sorry. I...I….”

 

Clarke arches a brow, smile growing into a broad grin. “Go on. I’m waiting to see what you’re going to come up with.”

 

Lexa sighs and gives up, leaning back in her seat and smiling. “Maybe I missed them.”

 

Clarke barks out a laugh, delighted. “Them? You only touched one of them.”

 

“You caught me, Clarke. I only came to this prom for the chance to touch the other.”

 

“Oh, did you? How thoughtful.”

 

“I didn’t want it to feel neglected or left out.”

 

“What are you waiting for, then?”

 

Lexa stills, biting her bottom lip as she looks at Clarke, who looks right back at her and bites her own. “Clarke.”

 

“Lexa.”

 

She swallows, trying to ignore how dry her throat is and how wet other areas are growing. “We’re in the back of a limo in your school parking lot. Teachers could come out, or Otan could be back any moment.”

 

Clarke doesn’t even glance out the window as she lifts one shoulder and lets it fall. “Limos are luxury multi-purpose vehicles. Maybe we could find a new use for it.”

 

Lexa’s already scooting around on the seat and leaning forward, eyes drifting toward Clarke’s mouth. “This isn’t going to be like when we were thirteen.”

 

“Gonna teach me some more things this time?” Lexa’s eyes snap onto hers and Clarke smirks as she leans forward too, sliding around on the seat to meet her. “Or maybe I have some things to teach you.”

 

“Watch and learn, grasshopper,” says Lexa seriously, and promptly swallows Clarke’s laughter.

 

This kiss, in ways, is exactly like their first kiss years ago in the cabin at Floukru Falls, drowned in dappled sunlight shining through the window. Clarke tastes like honeysuckle and the sherbert punch from the prom.

 

And then, other ways, this is nothing like their first kiss.

 

Air puffs from Clarke’s nose as she huddles in closer, pressing them more firmly together before she withdraws slightly to part her lips. Lexa suppresses a full-body shudder as a tongue slips along her bottom lip, and another when her own tongue probes out to meet it.

 

_Fuck._

 

This kiss does not end after a few suspended seconds followed by the shouting of their friends on their cabin door, urging them to rejoin them for a game of tag. This kiss keeps going, and going, until their breathing is heavy and ragged and Clarke is making these ridiculously addictive breathy noises as Lexa sinks her teeth into her neck and sucks, tongue lathing over where her pulse beats wildly. This kiss keeps going until Lexa has Clarke pressed against her seat and her nails are digging into the leather as she resists the urge to climb into her lap and put her hands where she shouldn’t.

 

But then Clarke is taking one of her hands, and leading it to her chest, and yeah, this is definitely not like summer camp.

 

“Fuck,” breathes Lexa, breaking apart to drop her foreheads to Clarke and suck in air. Clarke shudders beneath her as she squeezes her breast.

 

“Mmm. You know, maybe prom isn’t so bad after all.”

 

Lexa opens her eyes to meet dark blue, nearly eclipsed by blown pupils. “Yeah?”

 

Clarke nods and the movement has their noses nudging together; Clarke tips forward for another kiss that takes their breath away. “Yeah. Definitely.”

 

They lose themselves in another kiss that quickly turns into more. It isn’t until they’re kissing heavily and starting to grind, warm bare thighs slotting between their legs under their dresses, that Clarke pulls back to look at her. “You aren’t planning on leaving any time soon, right?”

 

Definitely not now. “No.”

 

“Good.” She moves to get off the seat, pulling at Lexa’s shoulders as though she wants to reverse their position. Lexa doesn’t budge. She arches a brow at Clarke, who smiles in exasperation. “Come on, switch over.”

 

“Why?”

 

Without another word, Clarke grips Lexa’s waist and tugs her forward to straddle her on the seat. “Because I have a few things to teach you, now.”

 

Hands slip up Lexa’s dress and slide up her thighs to teasingly squeeze the sides of her hips, and Lexa’s so wet she wonders if Clarke can feel the heat rolling off her in waves. She doesn’t quite know what compels her to keep challenging Clarke, but she goes with it anyway. “You’re all talk, just like summer camp.”

 

Clarke pulls back from where she was kissing beneath Lexa’s ear and gives her a playful offended expression. “Excuse me? Like it’s hard to get you talking, Woods.”

 

Lexa bites her lip, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of Clarke’s hand skating over the warm skin of her inner thighs, climbing higher to where she’s desperate to be touched. “I’m not talking at all.”

 

“Oh, you really think you’re going to stay quiet?”

 

Lexa nods and then drops her head back, teeth sinking into her bottom lip to stifle her whimper when Clarke leans forward, husky voice curling low and raspy in Lexa’s ear just as her fingers find their destination. “Prove it.”

 

 

*  *  *

 

 

Three hours into her prom, Clarke has decided that this was in fact an excellent idea.

 

“Fuck, Clarke,” groans Lexa, hitching her hips up higher and trembling as it drives the two fingers deeper inside her. “We—ah—really shouldn’t be doing this here...”

 

Clarke hooks her fingers and pushes against Lexa’s inner walls, tripping her thumb over a swollen clit and nipping at the strained cords of Lexa’s sweaty neck. “You want me to stop?” she murmurs into the hollow of Lexa’s throat. She huffs in amusement when the hands tangled in her hair immediately tighten their grip, as though fearing an abrupt departure.

 

“God, no.” Lexa shudders, walls fluttering around Clarke’s fingers, and arches her back with a strangled gasp when Clarke drives a particularly hard thrust in with enough force to shake the entire vehicle. “Oh! Fuck.”

 

“So why would you even suggest it?” She presses her thumb and sucks hard at Lexa’s neck to emphasis her point, humming when Lexa moans.

 

“Um, I—“ Lexa shakes her head, clearly finding it difficult to focus when Clarke is two fingers deep and starting to pump again. “I just. This limo. Someone could see and Otan could come back at any—“ She cuts off in a keening whine when Clarke stills, releasing her neck with a wet pop and craning back to look at her, steading her with a firm hand on her hip.

 

“Do you want to stop?” she asks seriously.

 

Lexa trembles, breathing heavily, unable to stop the small jerks of her hips, the unconscious canting to bring back the friction. She glances out the dark windows with hooded eyes before meeting Clarke’s gaze again. “No. I really don’t.”

 

Clarke maintains the gaze as she nods slowly, thoughtfully, and Lexa’s breath hitches as the hand on her hip tightens, bringing her closer, down harder on the fingers impaling her. “Right. Fast it is then.”

 

“What—“ Lexa’s bewildered words are cut off at once in a strangled gasp as Clarke suddenly flips them over and thrusts deep with the momentum. Those long legs spread and hook around her waist as she crowds close to the backseat Lexa’s sprawled across, and Lexa is helpless to do anything but whimper and reach out desperately to find something to cling onto as Clarke plunges into a relentless, ruthless pace.

 

The squelch of fingers sinking into wetness is nearly drowned out by the scrabbling and clawing of Lexa’s hands on the car door as she tries and fails to keep herself upright, body writhing as Clarke fucks her. If that didn’t do it, her progressively louder high-pitched cries certainly did.

 

“Oh, oh, _oh_ — _Clarke—oh—“_

 

Clarke leans forward to swallow her gasps and kiss her, pelvis tipping forward to provide more momentum behind her thrusts, and Lexa kisses her sloppily for a moment before breaking away to tip her head back against the seat, brow puckering and mouth falling open as she nears the peak.

 

“Fuck, oh—fuck, I’m gonna—I’m—Clarke,” she gasps and her hips still, her whole body drawing taut and tight as she holds her breath, and Clarke finds herself holding her breath right along with her, biting her lip and watching the moment Lexa hits the crest and the orgasm crashes through her. She spills into Clarke’s hand and gives the longest moan yet, drawn-out and obscene, and her sweaty hand leaves a wet print on the fogged up window as she finally comes down, body sinking limp in the seat as though she’s melted.

 

“Fuck,” she says again, slurred and breathless. “That was…fuck.”

 

“Wanna do it again?”

 

Lexa’s dark eyes are answer enough, but before Clarke can even move, Lexa’s arm is shooting out to cup the back of her neck with a hand and pull Clarke onto her. She kisses her deeply, tastes herself on Clarke’s tongue and moans into her mouth.

 

“Fuck,” pants Lexa, dropping her head back against the leather seat. “Where did you _come_ from?”

 

Clarke slides onto her lap with a slow smile that grows when Lexa moans upon feeling the wetness through Clarke’s underwear as it presses against her stomach.

 

“You should be less concerned about where I came from and more concerned about me coming right now.”

 

“I see you’re still as foul-mouthed as ever.”

 

Clarke laughs. She was indeed one of the kids well-known for their cursing at camp. She’d had privileges taken away a few times because of it.

 

“You’re talking too much, Lexa.”

 

Lexa opens her mouth to argue but Clarke pulls the straps of her dress down before she can, shoving it down to her waist. If Lexa wasn’t already silent and speechless at the sight of her breasts spilling out of her bra, when Clarke pushes her bra down to let them spring free, Lexa’s practically salivating.

 

She sits there for a moment, mouth ajar, looking dazed. “These are…fuck,” she breathes, reaching up to cup her breasts and squeeze, “These are _magnificent.”_

 

“Thanks.” Clarke smirks, even as her breath hitches when Lexa’s thumbs sweep across her nipples. “Grew ‘em myself. A lot bigger than last time, aren’t they?”

 

“Well, yes, Clarke, I would hope so considering last time we were thirteen and we’re now going on nineteen.”

 

“Well, I mean…” Clarke reaches out with a faux serious expression, critically observing her own hands as they cup Lexa’s breasts and weigh them in her palms. “Yours don’t seem to have changed _that_ much…”

 

She laughs when Lexa swats her hand away. “Rude.”

 

“Sorry, I’ll make up for it. I’ll...”

 

She forgets what she was going to say next when those perfect pouty lips close over her nipple.

 

* * *

 

“Do you want to go out with me sometime?”

 

Clarke huffs, lifting her head to fix an incredulous glare on Lexa. “You’re seriously asking me that right now? When you’re—“ She’s cut off by her own moan when Lexa slips a third finger into her without warning; when she continues, her voice is considerably more feeble, “When you’re—inside me?”

 

“Is there a better time than this?” Lexa hooks her fingers, watching Clarke with those hungry dark eyes as she pumps slowly, thumb tripping circles over a swollen clit. “I’m thinking my chances are good. You’re looking pretty partial to me right now.”

 

Clarke spreads her legs wider, eyes slamming shut as Lexa’s fingers brush against a sensitive spot that has white arcs of light dancing across her eyelids. “Fuck. Fuck, you’re good at this.”

 

“Good enough for you to go out with me?”

 

“God, good enough I might have to marry you.”

 

Lexa’s brows lift in surprise, but she doesn’t stop moving. If anything, her thumb presses more firmly against her, pushing as Clarke pulsates, body jolting as she nearly slips into her orgasm too soon. She staves it off, holding her breath and concentrating on that deep tug swirling in her belly, an invisible thread that glints like the moonlight filtering through the fogged up windows. She hums and bites her bottom lip, hips jerking. It’s inevitable, she won’t be able to fight it much longer.

 

“Ah, I’m gonna come…”

 

She whines when Lexa stills, but she’s only crouching down to drag plump lips across hot, sticky thighs. When she speaks, it’s in venerating murmurs slick with a challenge that’s mirrored in the dark slant of her gaze. Their eyes meet as Lexa’s lips whisper over her clit, taking over from her thumb. “Prove it.”

 

Clarke spills into her mouth without another word.

 

* * *

 

As if there wasn’t enough drama for one prom night, Clarke’s currently in the throes of her second orgasm when the limousine door is suddenly pulled open. And Clarke is too busy gasping and writhing as her orgasm crashes through her to chastise herself for not locking the door.

 

“Holy fucking shitballs!” screams someone, and Clarke has only a moment to open her eyes and look over to see a thunderstruck Octavia, a gaping Jasper and a shocked Maya, a mildly-impressed looking Raven Reyes, a furious Costia, and what looks suspiciously like Lincoln covering his face with his hands as he staggers away, all standing there with the door wide open, staring at them.

 

As if that isn’t bad enough, Clarke doesn’t realize she’s suffocating Lexa until there’s a hand slapping insistently on her ass and she quickly pulls herself up. Lexa takes a loud, wild gasp and wheezes, “Jesus, I mean I’m not complaining, but a little warning next time,” and then pauses when she realizes Clarke is frozen and staring. She tips her head up to peer upside down at the open door and makes a strange strangled squeak, her eyes widening.  

 

The limo door is slammed shut when Octavia and Lincoln spring forward at the same time to close it.

 

“Fuck.” Heart still pounding so loudly it’s difficult to catch the scandalized voices right outside the door, Clarke climbs off Lexa, who swivels around upright, and they collapse in the seats together, merely catching their breath for a moment before they silently start to redress themselves, as difficult as it is in their sweaty, sticky states.

 

“Well. Prom was fun while it lasted,” says Clarke airily, blowing out a breath. “Life, too. Octavia might just kill me.”

 

As ridiculous as it is considering all that has transpired in the past hour, Clarke is warmed by her blush and butterflies when Lexa takes her hand and entwines their fingers.

 

“Best. Prom. Ever.”

 

* * *

 

Five minutes later they’re standing outside the limo with Octavia glaring at them like a disappointed parent, her arms crossed beneath her chest.

 

“So, Costia left,” says Octavia flatly, looking between Clarke and Lexa with narrowed eyes. “And Lincoln said he’ll give you a ride, but we’re not leaving yet, and I know Emori and Murphy are getting high in the cafeteria bathroom right now so the limo isn’t going anywhere anytime soon either.”

 

Lexa sighs. “I’ll figure it out.”

 

“I need a ride too,” says Clarke with a roll of her eyes, since she’s reminded again of what an asshole Finn is. “So we’ll figure it out together.”

 

“I can’t believe you, Clarke,” bursts out Octavia. It’s clear she’s been holding it in. By her expression, she’s torn between disapproval and amusement, trying to hold on to the anger. “Of all the people you could have hooked up with prom, you choose _her?”_

 

“Octavia, I love you, but your soccer season kind of pales in comparison to my sex life right now. I’m not apologizing.”

 

She scoffs and storms off, and Clarke turns to shrug at a bemused Lexa. “She’ll get over it. She’ll be fine by tomorrow morning.”

“So, are we just calling for a cab, or…?” begins Lexa, but then Raven, who has still been standing nearby watching the whole spectable with an air of amusement, steps in.

"So, here I am having a shitty night— totally embarrassed myself by the way, like I drive six hours down here to surprise my long-term boyfriend only to find out he's cheating on me— and then the girl he cheated on me with dumps him and gets laid in the back of the limo. Did she take you to the stars?"

 

Clarke blinks at her. "What?"

 

Raven points at the handprint on the window. "Like in Titanic." She ticks up a brow at Clarke, frowning slightly as she considers her. "I'm guessing you're bi. So that makes it...the Bitanic."

 

“Oh.” Clarke smiles wryly while Lexa chuckles.

 

“Anyways, I can give you guys a ride if you want. I’m getting the hell out of here.”

 

“Are you sure?” asks Clarke doubtfully. She didn’t know Raven too well, but she knew the girl had a reputation for blowing things up. Considering Clarke had been unintentionally having an affair with her long-term boyfriend and now offering to give her a ride home, it was suspicious to say the least.

 

“Finn’s a jackass. I believe you when you say you didn’t know.” She waves to gesture them to follow her as she heads for her car. “Plus, I’ve just spent an hour grilling all your friends to figure out the truth, so. Yeah, you’re good.”

 

“Thank you,” offers Lexa mildly, exchanging a smile with Clarke.

 

“No problem.”

 

Lexa’s house is nearer, so Raven swings into the drive in no time. Clarke is not quite ready for the night to end, but she’s not sure where she and Lexa stand right now. They look at each other and she decides to take a chance.

 

“Can I walk you to your door?”

 

Lexa nods so somberly it draws a smile from Clarke. “Please. I don’t want to get lost.”

 

Raven’s snort has them both blushing, but they ignore it as they hop out of the car. They walk slowly up the drive, meandering and a bit sore from earlier.

 

“It was good seeing you again.” At the amused look Clarke gives her, Lexa gives a crooked smile. “Really good. Obviously.”

 

“Really, really good,” agrees Clarke, gaze drifting to Lexa’s lips before up again. She catches Lexa doing the same thing and grins. “Can I see your phone?”

 

Lexa nods and pulls it out. “Let me have yours too.”

 

They swap phones and enter each other’s numbers in. Clarke’s beginning to think the smile on her face is a permanent fixture now as she slips her phone back into her clutch.

 

Lexa takes a deep breath and opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, her front door opens and a woman stands there with killer cheekbones and a frown. The woman looks between them before her gaze settles expectantly on Lexa.

 

“Hey, um, this is my sister, Anya. Anya, this is Clarke.”

 

“Hey,” says Anya shortly to Clarke before looking at Lexa again with an impassive expression and a raised brow. “So, why exactly are you back with a different girl than the one you left with?”

 

Lexa winces. “It’s a long story…”

 

“Mmm hmm…”

 

“Hey!”

 

They all startle and turn to see Raven striding toward them, eyes fixed on Anya, who is suddenly blinking rapidly. Raven reaches them and they all stand there in awkward silence, no one speaking. Raven suddenly nudges Lexa hard enough she nearly stumbles forward. “Dude, are you going to introduce me or what? Rude.”

 

“Anya Woods,” says Anya smoothly, extending a hand.

 

“Raven Reyes.” Raven shakes it and cocks a brow at the Polis University sweatshirt Anya is wearing. “You go to PU?”

 

Anya wrinkles her nose at the term, but nods, eyes sliding down the length of Raven’s body, taking in the skin-tight red dress. Raven eyes her similarly, and for a moment they simply size one another up while Clarke and Lexa watch, unnerved.

 

“Same. I’m in engineering. I actually just got an internship to work with Becca Praimheda herself.”

 

Anya surveys her coolly. “You bragging for a reason?”

 

Raven shrugs. “Maybe.” She gives her a lopsided grin. “Is it working?”

 

Anya mirrors her shrug. “You a fan of the bar down on main street?”

 

“Love it. I could do with a drink, feeling pretty thirsty right now.”

 

“Lexa, if mom gets home before me, tell her I’m out and I don’t know when I’ll be back,” says Anya shortly, craning back to grab her keys.

 

Lexa and Clarke watch in astonishment as Anya and Raven walk toward Raven’s car.

 

“Did that actually just happen?” asks Lexa in disbelief.

 

“This has been a really weird night,” says Clarke lightly. Lexa nods, at a loss.

 

“Do you want to come in?” she asks after a moment. She licks her lips. “We could watch Netflix like you wanted. Apparently my parents aren’t home.”

 

Clarke smiles, glancing over her shoulder to see Raven and Anya peeling away in the truck. “I mean, considering my ride has vanished, I might as well. You don’t want me to walk home, right? I could get lost.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

* * *

 

As it turns out, they don’t watch much of Netflix. They make it ten minutes into the movie before Clarke’s straddling Lexa on her couch and they’re kissing heavily, Lexa’s hands on her breasts again and Clarke leaving dark bruises along the line of Lexa’s collarbone. Clarke is grinding her hips down into Lexa while Lexa’s canting hers to meet her, and they’re breathing hard and biting back moans, and then the front door is opening abruptly, spilling light into the room.

 

And then Clarke finds herself looking into the face of a woman who does not look amused at all to find her daughter in the situation she is.

 

“Mom!” exclaims Lexa, shoving Clarke off her lap hard enough Clarke nearly falls off the couch. Clarke fumbles to pull her dress down over her thighs.

 

“Lexa,” says the woman, voice every bit as short and to the point as Anya’s had been. “I see you’re back from the prom. Without the date you left with,” she adds dryly, glancing at a furiously blushing Clarke.

 

“Uh, yeah, um. This is Clarke. Clarke, this is my mom.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Woods,” says Clarke weakly, lifting a hand above the couch to give a meek wave.

 

Ms. Woods sighs. “It’s late and past your curfew, Lexa. Use my car to take her home.” She tosses her keys to Lexa, who snatches them out of the air even with shaky hands. “Be quiet when you come back in, you know I have a meeting tomorrow so I’m going to bed.” She starts to head up the stairs and then stops. “Where is your sister?”

 

“She, uh, said she’s going out, she doesn’t know when she’ll be back.”

 

Ms. Woods gives another long-suffering smile. “Fine. Good night, girls.”

 

“Good night…”

 

“Oh my God,” whispers Clarke once she’s gone. Lexa looks at her with wide eyes. “I’m never going to live this night down.”

 

“Well, no one should know about this part,” offers Lexa bracingly. “I’m certainly not going to be telling anyone. At least Anya isn’t here, she’d give you shit about it for sure.”

 

Clarke shudders.

 

Lexa takes her home and they manage to stop kissing long enough for her to exit the car and go home. Abby and Jake look both horrified and guilty when Clarke mentions Finn is a cheating jerk, but they’re pleased— and mildly suspicious— when she admits prom actually wasn’t that bad. She doesn’t elaborate and hurries upstairs before they can annoy her about it. Her phone goes off and her heart jumps when she spots the name flashing across her screen.

 

 

 

  


 

 _Lexa:_  
_So, this isn't going to be a repeat of summer camp, right?_

 _Clarke:_  
_I thought that's what happened earlier..._

 _Lexa:_  
_Mmm, it was a little different than summer camp_  
_Seriously though. You're not going to disappear on me?_

 _Clarke:_  
_Didn't you see the glass slipper I left at your house? Might have feel between the couch cushions..._

 

 

 

She changes out of her dress and soaked underwear, but she doesn’t shower yet, not quite ready to wash Lexa off her. She curls up in bed and smiles at her phone.

 

 

 

 

 

 _Lexa:_  
_Can I take you on a date tomorrow?_

 _Clarke:_  
_I'd love to :)_

 _Lexa:_  
_Great :)) I can pick you up after school?_

 _Clarke:_  
_Sure! Just text me when you're here._

 _Lexa:_  
_I will :)_  
_It'll be the best date you've ever been on, Griffin_

 _Clarke:_  
_Prove it_  
  
_Lexa:_  
_I will :)_

 

 

She falls asleep with a smile on her face.

 

 

* * *

 

 

If you asked Clarke what she expected the day after prom to be like, it wouldn’t have been this.

 

When she walks into the school that morning, people fall silent. Whispers abound and Clarke wastes no time in grabbing Octavia by the elbow and dragging her away from her locker to ask what’s going on.

 

“You’re the talk of the school, obviously,” says Octavia with a roll of her eyes that’s a bit too affectionate. As Clarke expected, her irritation with Clarke’s choice of partner has clearly faded overnight, replaced instead by amusement over the whole situation. “What did you expect?”

 

Clarke groans, frowning as she spots several more students staring at her as they hurry by, giggling and excitedly whispering to one another.

 

“Clarke, your prom date’s girlfriend showed up and made a scene, then you dumped him and then his ex dumped a punch bowl on his head. Then like an hour later, you’re found in the back of a limo riding the face of the Tondc Academy soccer star.” The last few words contain only a mild amount of bitterness, too much incredulity and amusement layering Octavia’s tone instead. “I think Jasper posted a tweet about it that’s already gone viral.”

 

“What the fuck!”

 

Octavia shrugs. “Maya made him delete it, but, you know.”

 

Octavia ends up bugging her for more information after prom ended that night and she eventually relents, telling her how she was walked in on yet again and this time by Lexa’s mother. Octavia finds it hilarious and wastes no time in telling their other friends, and soon enough that’s well known by the whole school too, and any amount of half-hearted apologies uttered out around laughter by Octavia isn’t going to change that.

 

Wells, much to Clarke’s dismay, is just as scandalized and delighted as the rest of the school, and doesn’t hesitate in joining her other friends by mercilessly teasing her. Clarke spends her entire first period pouting and discreetly texting Lexa under her desk.

 

 

 

  


 

_Clarke:_   
_So apparently we're the talk of the school :/_

_Lexa:_   
_Anya won't stop teasing me either, if that makes you feel any better. I tried to tease her back for the amount of hickeys she came back with this morning but she's pretty proud of them._   
_Don't worry about the gossip, they'll forget all about it pretty soon._

_Clarke:_   
_Hopefully. Oh well, it was worth it anyway :P_

_Lexa:_   
_Agreed ;)_

 

 

After class, she spends the five minute break before the next listening to Jasper enthuse about how Clarke’s now a local legend. Finn won’t even look at her, which cheers Clarke up. She’s starting to have a pretty good day, growing more and more excited for her date with Lexa, when it happens.

 

On their way to their next class, they pass by the offices, and Clarke runs into someone who just exited the door. She’s already apologizing and gathering up her things when the woman she walked in to hands her a binder and says, “Oh, Clarke.”

 

She freezes and all the blood drains from her face when she looks up into the bemused dark eyes of Lexa’s mother. The blood promptly returns tenfold, and she blushes so profusely all her friends are now staring curiously at her.

 

“Um, I, um. Uh.”

 

“My daughter tells me you’re going out tonight,” drawls Ms. Woods, staring down her nose at Clarke, who wishes nothing more than to melt through the floor. “Make sure she’s home at a decent time. I don’t think she’ll require you to walk her to the door this time.”

 

Clarke stammers again. She is definitely sweating by this point. To make matters worse, Principal Kane appears behind Ms. Woods, perking up when he sees Clarke.

 

“Clarke! This is Indra Woods, she’s the President of Polis University. Indra, this is Clarke Griffin, one of our two Valedictorians this year!”

 

_Oh my God._

 

Screw melting into the floor. Clarke wants to straight up astral project into another plane of existence.

 

Indra purses her lips and nods slowly. “Yes, I met her. She’s apparently quite close with my daughter, who coincidentally happens to be the Valedictorian of Tondc Academy. I would hope two such model students would hold each other to high standards. Keep that in mind, Miss Griffin.”

 

With that Indra sweeps away, Kane looking somewhat puzzled in her wake. Clarke is left standing rooted in place as around her, all her friends burst into rambunctious hilarity.

 

“You were caught fucking the commander of Tondc in the back of a limo and then later caught by the President!” roars Jasper.

 

“At the time she wasn’t the President, she was Lexa’s mom!” laments Clarke.

 

“Like that makes it any better, you dog!”

 

“Oh my fucking God, Clarke, I can’t even _believe_ — “ cackles Octavia, clapping Clarke on the shoulder. “Lexa’s mom is the _President_ of Polis U, holy shit— “

 

“Yep. Yep, thanks, O, my life is over, but thanks.”

 

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” guffaws Octavia, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes; beside her, Jasper and Monty are still doubled over with laughter, and even Wells is having trouble hiding his grin and chortles. “She looked like she thought it was kinda funny too.”

 

“Which is better _how?”_ hisses Clarke.

 

“I mean, she could have killed you,” says Jasper.

 

“Or kicked you out of college before you could even go,” suggests Monty.

 

“Or called your parents,” says Wells.

 

“And just think,” says Octavia, barely suppressed laughter returning to her voice, “You’re going on a date with her daughter today.”

 

Clarke groans.

 

* * *

 

Later that day, Clarke leaves the school and all her friends’ laughter behind her, heading for the car pulled up in the drive that contains a smirking Lexa. Her heart flutters at the sight of her and she doesn’t hesitate in leaning over the console to kiss her softly.

 

“So, you didn’t mention your mom happens to be the president of Polis University.”

 

“I didn’t?” says Lexa innocently as she puts the car into drive. “Must have slipped my mind.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“Sorry,” says Lexa sheepishly, glancing at Clarke, whose twitching lips betray her exaggerated glare. “I figured you would be going to PU and I didn’t want you to stress…”

 

Clarke settles back in her seat with an exaggerated sigh, unable to stop the grin that grows on her face to mirror Lexa’s. “You can make it up to me with some milkshakes.”

 

“Sounds good,” promised Lexa.

 

“Maybe if you play your cards right, I’ll even let you touch my boob again.”

 

She laughs when Lexa accidentally stomps on the gas and they shoot forward down the road.


End file.
